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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23051002">Untitled 55</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/shsl_selfloathing/pseuds/shsl_selfloathing'>shsl_selfloathing</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Komahina/Kamukoma Stories and Oneshots [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Super Dangan Ronpa 2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>And angsty, Cuties, Hinakoma - Freeform, I love my boys, I really want nagito's parents to be good people at heart, I tried to be poetic and artistic with it, Komahina - Freeform, M/M, Nagito doesn't have a name, Oneshot, also he wants to die but that's nothing new, hajime is kinda ooc but it's not that bad because cute, honestly this is kinda bad but i saw a prompt and yeah..., i'm not sure if it worked or not let me know, idk its weird, why does nagito wear that stupid jacket...</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 06:07:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,111</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23051002</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/shsl_selfloathing/pseuds/shsl_selfloathing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when a nameless boy loses his only sense of identity?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Komahina/Kamukoma Stories and Oneshots [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1656532</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>87</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Untitled 55</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He remembered it all too well. From as early as he could remember his parent's drilled it into his mind. </p><p>"Your name is a very powerful thing." They would tell him.</p><p>His name was powerful. Anyone, other than his parents, who knew his name would be protected from his luck cycle. However, They would have his heart and life in the palm of their hand. They could destroy him with a single word, they could kill him in an instant. </p><p>"Make sure you don't give it to just anyone." His parents had told him every day until their untimely death. </p><p>So he lived his life a ghost. Not a single one of the numerous medical records had his true name. Not a single classmate had an alias to type into their phone. </p><p>He was just an unsaved number. That's all the mysterious white-haired boy was. He walked in a green coat labeled "55" </p><p>Every morning during roll call, "55?"</p><p>He would raise his pale hand. </p><p>In the halls, "What even is that guy's name?" "Everyone call's him 55."<br/>
"Because of that raggedy old jacket?" "Probably."</p><p>Could 55 count as a name at this point? It was possible. Despite his loneliness, he held an affection for every soul in that building. And anyone in the world could kill him any time they pleased, but perhaps that was all simply his nature. </p><p>55<br/>
55<br/>
55</p><p>He wore it on his back as a label, no matter the occasion. The funny thing, he had never asked to be called that. It just happened, and no one ever asked for his true name, not as if he'd tell them. </p><p>He had accepted that to the world he was simply a bone skinny, ghostly figure called 55.</p><p>In a locked box at home, he had dozens of paper scraps, his true name in different variations of his own miserable handwriting. </p><p>He would walk the streets alone from noon to dusk, pathetically tucking his hands into his label of a jacket. Taking a mental note of everything he would pass. </p><p>A beautiful Garden, Roses, Daffodils, Jasmines. Named, "Espérer gardens" On Sundays, an old couple would sit on the same bench by the front gate.</p><p>A bridge, with the name SoliEau. He always passed the same group of friends going the opposite way.</p><p>And a mesmerizing fountain the same as him, nameless, or perhaps it had a name, that he was yet to find out. He saw a multitude of people at that fountain. A girl with a game, occasionally joined by a boy, an older man who fed pigeons, and the occasional random young couple.</p><p>He woke up on New Year's day, the same as always. stretching his arms he walked to his window, to pull his label from the clothesline as always. </p><p>But something was off. </p><p>His label was gone. Had it left him? Was it becoming too much of a name?</p><p>He panicked. His green eyes shaking with tears. He slipped into clothes and shoes, sprinting from his door, He ran the streets, a lost spirit storming by named faces, in search of his runaway label. </p><p>He ran across the bridge, searching up and down the river, and chasing the wind that had stolen his only sense of self. </p><p>Evening came, all he could do was give up. He was done. His white hair, even more disheveled than always. His scrawny legs aching and throbbing, and his greyish-greenish eyes staining his cheeks red with his tears.</p><p>He desperately rocked himself by the nameless fountain. He didn't even want it to have a name anymore. It was his only nameless kin. </p><p>"Shit..." He cursed the world that had taken everything. </p><p>"Shit." He cursed the wind that took himself. </p><p>"Shit!" He cursed everyone he would die for in a heartbeat. Everyone who never even bothered to ask his name. Everyone who allowed him to latch onto that stupid fucking jacket.</p><p>"Fuck everything." He cursed his parents, that he felt just as dead as. He cursed them for burdening him with this despairful life of lonely namelessness. </p><p>"Excuse me." a blunt voice called. He wouldn't even bother to look up it wasn't for him. </p><p>"Hey. Answer me." The voice demanded. </p><p>It wasn't for him. He meant nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing... </p><p>"Hey!" The voice yelled, a foot stomping right before his shoes.</p><p>He sucked up his tears to answer the owner. "What do you need?"</p><p>"Look at me, would you?" The voice asked. He couldn't refuse a demand from a named. He turned his glassy eyes to meet this stranger's </p><p>"Are you ok?"</p><p>The owner stared down at him. His brows tilted inwards, his hair spiky and brown, eyes filled with Olive hues, and tanned freckled skin catching the sun. </p><p>"Why would you ask me that?" The nameless asked. "You want a list?" The boy scoffed. </p><p>"go ahead." </p><p>"I was being sarcastic, sorry." The boy uttered, his demeanor changing. He sighed, taking a seat on the ground next to the societal phantom. </p><p>"I found something this morning." He announced. The pale boy felt a pound of shock and hope hit him. "What was it?"</p><p>"This." The freckled stranger held out an article folded with the number "55" facing out. "I thought I reconized it, you pass this fountain every day don't you?"</p><p>"How could you know me...?" </p><p>"Well, you uh... I just always noticed you I guess." the brunet scratched the back of his neck. The pale unknown gawked. </p><p>"So... Did you want this back?" </p><p>"Oh... yeah I do... thanks..."</p><p>"I'm glad I got it back to you..." The brunet smiled. The boy couldn't help the soft smile spreading his lips. "I'm glad too." He uttered as he rubbed circles in the printed number. </p><p>"Oh uh..." The stranger stuttered. "I kinda wanna know..." He uttered extending his hand. The sore, pale boy turned his fluffy head to look into the boy's olive eyes. </p><p>"What's your name?"</p><p>The unknown paled at the never before heard question. He scanned the boy's body up and down. </p><p>He had always thought he had affection for everyone in the world, that he'd let anyone kill him at any second. But this boy, made him second guess that entire philosophy.</p><p>No one else deserved to take his life, aside from the first person to ask his name. A smile slipped his lips and a blush spread over his cheeks. </p><p>"Nagito Komaeda." He spoke with pride. </p><p>The stranger smiled. "That's a nice name." </p><p>"Hajime Hinata." The boy introduced himself, grabbing Nagito's hand, it was almost as if Nagito felt his heart getting physically handed over to this boy, but honestly, he was ok with it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I wrote this as the sun was rising and i had zero hours of sleep. It's either a work of art, or the cringiest shit ever conceived.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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